In-Flight Entertainment
by WhiteFlowersOnOurBacks
Summary: AU in which Blaine and Sebastian meet for the first time on the red-eye from LA to New York. (Originally entitled Prepare the Cabin for Departure.)
1. Prepare the Cabin for Departure

When he had shouted at Denise that he needed a flight back to New York, that night (any flight would do. He didn't care what airline or when it left or ANYTHING, just so long as he would be IN New York by 7 the next morning. And no, not at the airport at 7. He needed to be IN the city by then) he hadn't been expecting _this_.

Stuck in the back of the plane in the dreaded middle seat. On his right was a middle aged man whose number one priority in life clearly was not personal hygiene. Whoever had the window seat had yet to make it on the place, despite the fact that the plane was due to take off in ten minutes..

He knew, based on the shouting match he and Denise had gotten into when he looked at his ticket and found out he would, for the first time ever, be traveling coach, that this flight (and every other one leaving LA and headed to NYC) was totally booked so he hadn't even dared to hope that he wouldn't be squished between two undesired companions for the duration of the flight. But as the clock ticked down closer and closer to take off he was allowing himself to become hopeful that whatever idiot was meant to be on his other side might just not show up.

Five minutes to go and he let himself begin to relax and smile smugly at his good fortune.

He was just contemplating convincing his father to double Denise's Christmas bonus (he really had been unfair to her during that last phone call) when some _kid_ in yellow pants and a sweater vest came hurtling down the aisle, stopping at the end of their row and gesturing to the inside seat as he struggled to catch his breath. With an annoyed grunt Sebastian unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed himself out of his seat so this absolute imbecile could squeeze past him.

"Sorry," the kid murmured as he attempted to shove his bulging backpack under the seat in front of him.

"Blaine!" A blonde flight attendant cried happily. "We almost had to leave without you, silly boy. Janice and I were just brainstorming how to stall the pilot." She winked obnoxiously at Sebastian's seatmate. "Big day for you tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Two finals," Blaine nodded. "and another on Thursday, thesis due next Monday, and my recital next Wednesday," he recited.

"We'll be sure to have the champagne waiting. And some energy drinks" She winked again before hurrying up the aisle.

"I'm on this flight a lot," Blaine explained, like Sebastian cared. And oh, god, was he going to be one of those people who just talked the whole time? "I'm Blaine, by the way. Blaine Anderson." He smiled and held out his hand, which Sebastian tentatively shook.

"Sebastian," he said shortly, hoping to get across that he had no interest in furthering the conversation.

"I hope you don't mind if I keep my light on for a while," Blaine persisted. "I know they're only supposed to light up my area, but they never do, do they? It's just I have this really huge test tomorrow and I've been so busy this week and haven't had enough time to study for it.

"I thought you had two exams tomorrow," replied Sebastian without thinking, because it was second nature for him to correct people. "I mean, that's what you told the stewardess."

"Yeah." Blaine looked genuinely delighted that he knew that. " But one's in statistics and we get a note card as a cheat sheet, so I'm not too worried. Also, I think they prefer flight attendant."

"A cheat sheet?" Sebastian snorted. "College sure has changed since my day."

"Your day? That can't have been too long ago." Blaine flushed. "I just mean, you don't look very old."

"Thanks." He wasn't that old, he hadn't even been out of law school for two years, but he couldn't help but feel a little insulted at the comment anyways. An unfortunate side effect of his job, he was sure. In his world youth was not a benefit.

"So the light? It's okay if it stays on?"

Sebastian withheld the childish urge to tell him it was his light and he didn't care what he did with it. Blaine was only trying to be considerate of him and it wasn't his fault that Sebastian's vacation had been cut short. "It's fine. I have some cases I need to review. I wasn't planning on getting much sleep."

"Should've known you were a lawyer. I bet you work for one of those fancy corporate firms." Sebastian squinted, trying to decide if this was meant to be a jab at his person, but somehow Blaine really didn't seem like the type to do that so, just this once, he let it go.

By the time the stewardesses-sorry flight attendants- came around with their carts Sebastian was engrossed in his cases. "Scotch, on the rocks," without even bothering to look up he held up his credit card and accepted the drink.

"Jack, no ice," Blaine said a moment later. Sebastian wasn't surprised when the flight attendant covertly snuck him a second one bottle. He was, however, surprised when Blaine twisted open the top and downed it in one go. And maybe a little distracted by the long column of his throat as he swallowed it down.

"Easy there, killer," he couldn't help but chuckle.

"I don't normally drink like that," Blaine said, that charming blush creeping its way back up his neck again. Not that Sebastian had noticed it the first time. He also hadn't noticed how Blaine chewed on his thumb as he concentrated on whatever he was reading. "I just... Do _you_ know anything about pre-industrial France? Or know any French? I swear I had a translated copy of this passage somewhere, but I can't find it and I haven't taken French since I was 16." His face had crumpled into this desperate puppy dog pout.

"I lived in Paris for about 10 years. So I know whatever I can remember from school. I am fluent in French, though. If you want, I can translate for you?"

Gratefully, Blaine handed over the book and pulled out a sheet of paper for Sebastian to write on. "I didn't actually expect you to. I mean, thank you for doing it. But if whatever you're doing is more important don't even worry about it. I'm sure I can find another source."

"Don't worry about it," he waved dismissively and read through the document. "Why are you even reading this?" He asked when he got to the end.

"It's for this ridiculous class. I took it because it was the only history one that would fit in my schedule and I needed one more course for the major and the professor was supposed to be really good. But then she went on maternity leave and we got stuck with this awful bumbling idiot who probably couldn't even find France on a map."

Sebastian took a second to look up from his translating. Blaine, apparently, wasn't quite as polite as he looked. "So you're a history major?" He tried not to sound too judgmental about that.

"Accidently, yeah. Went in as a music major and took a couple history classes my freshman year. Just for fun and ended up really liking them. So I took even more. Then last semester my advisor told me I only needed one more class and a thesis for a major. It didn't really seem like a big deal at the time, so I went for it. If only I had known." He laughed, shaking his head at his folly.

"Thesis more work than you planned?"

"Not really. I have a lot of friends who are older, so I watched them struggle through it first and I knew what to expect. And even with completing my music major it didn't seem like it would be that bad. But I, uh..." the red tinge was back, "kind of got signed to a record label a couple months ago. It was pretty much a once in a lifetime deal so I had to take it. But I didn't want to just stop going to school. A lot of people do, and that's fine. Whatever works for you. But I didn't want to just throw away the last 7 semesters. So I've been flying back and forth from New York to LA a couple times a week, trying to juggle both."

Even by Smythe family standards that was crazy. And Sebastian didn't hesitate to tell Blaine so.

"Your family is crazy then?"

"The craziest." Based on the pitying look he was being given he guessed he hadn't done a good enough job keeping the bitterness from his voice. "I should have this translation done for you in another couple of minutes." He turned his attention back to the papers in front of him.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Didn't mean to distract you." Out of the corner of his eye Sebastian saw Blaine press his lips together as though he was forcing himself to not say anything else. It absolutely wasn't endearing. Neither was the absurd bowtie the boy was wearing.

Sebastian finished up his work and glanced over it, making sure that it read smoothly. It had been a long time since he had to translate something and flip-flopping between the two languages had always muddled his brain a little bit. Logically, he knew that this kid should be grateful for any help he got, but he couldn't help but want him to be impressed. "It might be a little rough, but here." He shrugged and handed the translation over.

"Wow," breathed Blaine, looking over the paper. "This is great. I will never be able to thank you enough."

They didn't talk much after that. Blaine was frantically scrawling notes in preparation for the essays he would have to be writing in a few shorts hours and Sebastian trying to make sense of Cowell's nearly incomprehensible notes. Just before 4 the tiny text of Sebastian's notes was all a blur and he could barely keep his eyes open. It had been a long day before he received that frantic phone call beckoning him home and he knew the next day would be longer. With that in mind he capped his pen and straightened up his papers.

A proper, restful sleep was out of the question, but he thought he might be able to manage a 30 minute cat nap, even with Blaine's light diffusing across their row. Indeed, he had barely closed his eyes before he was drifting into unconsciousness.

Forty-five minutes later he started awake, heart thrumming in the way it normally did when he forgot to do something before going to bed. Wide-eyed he glanced around, reminding himself he was on a plane, that they still had an hour before they were scheduled to land, and the only thing he had left in California was his sanity.

He had just started to properly bemoan the latter fact when he became aware of a heavy, yet surprisingly comfortable, weight on his shoulder.

It was Blaine who had fallen asleep mid-thought, if the truly nonsensical scribble that took up half a page of his notebook was anything to go by. His pen was still loosely gripped in his hand and his book was opened to a page that looked like it had very little to do with pre-industrial France.

Sebastian didn't know how long he'd been sleeping (or how long he'd been using Sebastian as his personal pillow) but the poor kid looked like he really needed the rest. Even in the week leading up to their bar exam none of his classmates had looked that tired. Not that he was going to let Blaine keep napping on him, but he would be extra cautious in relocating him.

Once Blaine was resting in what looked like a comfortable manner against the window Sebastian pulled out his pen and got back to work. Cowell's thoughts were still half-formed and entirely pointless but at least Sebastian could think clearly enough to write appropriately scathing comments in the margins.

He had only just turned the page when Blaine's head found its way back to his shoulder. With a huff he nudged the boy back in the other direction, a little less gentle than last time but he couldn't quite bring himself to be utterly unsympathetic. He remembered his school days and how exhausting they had been. Weeks when he had maybe gotten twelve hours of sleep. The month during his first year of law school where he had become absolutely reliant on energy drinks and coffee. He couldn't even imagine adding regular transcontinental flights to that mix.

It was that sympathy that meant that when Blaine's head flopped back to the to the left for the fourth time Sebastian mentally threw in the towel and just let him stay there. What was the life of a college student if you didn't randomly fall asleep on complete strangers sometimes? Besides, he was getting no work done himself.

It had nothing to do with the way Blaine's eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks or the fact that it was oddly not unpleasant to have someone sleeping on his shoulder. Or that something about it just felt right. Like he could imagine himself travelling with this stranger in the future, but he wouldn't be a stranger, he would be—

No. That was actually weird.

He had long since gotten over his hang-ups about relationships. He still didn't really do them. During his second year of law school he'd been with a guy for a couple months, but it hadn't worked out. And since then he hadn't had the time to go looking. Nor had he had an overwhelming interest. He liked his space and independence and he was more than fine with the occasional hookup and the casual friends with many benefits (with an extreme emphasis on the word friends) thing he had sometimes going on and sometimes not with Vincent.

But this was just some kid, not even out of college. Probably five years younger than Sebastian and working on a music career, of all the impractical things. And, most importantly, they met on an airplane. Sebastian had no idea where he lived, although he presumed it was somewhere around New York City. But he could almost guarantee it was nowhere near where he lived (his neighborhood didn't exactly cater to the average, or even above average, college student). So the likelihood of them ever seeing each other was just on the wrong side of impossible.

Thankfully it wasn't too much longer before the overhead lights flickered on and Blaine blinked awake, not so surreptitiously wiping at the corner of his mouth and Sebastian really hoped he hadn't gotten any drool on his jacket.

"Oh, god," Blaine pushed himself away and looked horrified. "I'm really sorry. That's never happened before. How long was I-?"

Sebastian shrugged like it wasn't that big of a deal. "Not sure. You were there when I woke up. I tried moving you, but you just kept coming back. Must be my irresistible magnetism " He smiled, possibly a little too flirtatiously.

Blaine blushed furiously and hunched back over his book until the flight attendants came around again. Blaine happily accepted two cups; one of orange juice and one of coffee. Sebastian sniffed distastefully at his own coffee before dumping in three bags of sugar to try and mask the awful taste.

"Didn't think you'd be one of those people," Blaine commented with a grin.

"One of what people?"

"There's nothing to be ashamed of. A lot of people can't handle the taste of coffee by itself." He's partially teasing and maybe flirting and for a minute Sebastian is surprised.

"This is not coffee. This isn't even sludge. Besides," he winked, "who can resist a little sugar every now and then."

Embarrassedly, Blaine waved his hand like he's trying to brush the comment away. "Your euphemisms are horrible," he said, trying to force himself to meet Sebastian's eyes but failing.

"My euphemisms are _fantastic_ just like the rest of me."

"Your ego is certainly fantastic. I'm surprised you even made it through the door." Blaine seemed as surprised by his sass as Sebastian was. Sebastian liked it though, a spark of fire under the blushing exterior. He wondered if that was what Blaine was like with his friends, brash and uninhibited. He couldn't deny that he kind of liked the idea that bringing out causing him to be flustered was something special to him.

"You'd be surprised at the tight spaces I can make it into."

That charming blush was back and the way that Blaine ducked his head really made Sebastian want to kiss up the back of his neck. He shifted a little in his seat and stared intently at the over-exposed cleavage of the girl across the aisle from him; the plane was already sloping downwards which meant he had less than five minutes before he would be forced to stand up and rush through a bustling airport and he didn't need thoughts of Blaine (no matter how appealing) distracting him or creating… awkward situations.

The closer the plane got to the ground, the more anxious Blaine was getting, alternating between looking at his watch and making abortive attempts at reaching for his bag, clearly regretting having put his books away.

"When's the exam?"

Blaine laughed nervously and looked at his watch again. "About 3 hours from now."

"You either know it or you don't," he advised. It was something he wished someone had said to him every once in a while he was still in school. Undergrad had been bad, law school had been hell. And in the end all those extra last minute study hours had done was made him more than a little crazy and sleep deprived. Once you had a 4.0 forgetting a name (or mixing up two entirely unrelated court cases) didn't actually matter. I haven't even known your for half a day and I can say with confidence that you've probably studied more than most of your class. And there is no way you will get anything lower than an A. Maybe an A- if you fall asleep halfway through."

"Can I get that in writing?"

"Absolutely. And I'll even get Janet or whatever her name is to sign as a witness." He hadn't smiled this much in months, if not years and it was starting to hurt his cheeks but he couldn't quite bring himself to stop.

They were taxiing into the gate and, with a bit of alarm, Sebastian realized he had entirely missed the announcement informing him he could switch his phone on. With a curse he reached into his pocket and pulled it out, already dreading all the missed messages and e-mails he was sure to have.

If he could travel everywhere by plane he would, if only for the precious moments of electronic silence it brought. He had once convinced his father to send him to Japan when his mother wouldn't stop harassing him with e-mails because it gave him almost 24 hours of compulsory solitude.

"Oh Christ," he muttered, scrolling through the three Very Important documents that had been sent to him while he was in-flight. They were, apparently, Crucial to the meeting he was expected to be sitting in within the next couple hours.

"Everything okay?" Blaine asked. He was visibly refraining for peering over Sebastian's shoulder to see what on his phone was so distressing. And he looked so earnestly concerned, like he genuinely wanted to help solve all of Sebastian's problems.

"Just work stuff. Appreciate your last few weeks of school. I promise you'll find yourself missing it."

The pair of them eased their way into the aisle, Blaine helping Sebastian wrestle his carry-on from the overhead bin as he kept his eyes glued to the screen of his phone, only looking up to flash a grateful smile at his travel companion.

The slow going nearly killed Sebastian, but Blaine seemed to be enjoying the pieces of his sarcastic commentary that he was able to catch. Although, he apparently drew the line at the harsh words directed at an elderly lady who was taking her time hobbling up the aisle.

"Don't be a jerk," he chastised. Of course Blaine Anderson was an upstanding citizen. He was probably dying to go up to said old lady and ask if he could carry her bags. "You try travelling alone when you're her age and see how easy it is."

"I'm sure I'll manage it fine."

"Then I will, personally, pay some young'un to knock your cane out of your hand." That teasing smile nearly caused Sebastian to miss the step from the plane. He managed to catch himself just before the stumble became apparent and it somehow managed with Blaine tripping instead.

"Steady there, killer." Sebastian wrapped a secure arm around the younger man's waist to keep him upright. "Looks like you'll be needing that cane sooner than I will." Blaine's weight rested warmly against his side and he definitely took longer than was strictly necessary to untangle himself.

"Sounds good. If I can get a top hat too." Blaine didn't seem to be in a particular rush to extract himself either. When he finally did it seemed to be with at least a little bit of reluctance, but that could just be Sebastian's sleep deprived and libido driven brain talking.

Awkwardly they walked through the terminal. They're coming from the same plane and headed in generally the same direction, but they don't actually know each other and neither really seems to be sure whether or not their interaction should've ended when they got up from their seats. Sebastian busied himself on his phone and Blaine walked just ahead of him.

It's still a little early to be bustling, but there's a healthy number of suit-clad people rushing around. Blaine looks hilariously out of place with his backpack and brightly colored pants while everyone else is in black or navy suits and toting a small carryon and a briefcase.

But every time Sebastian glances up from his phone he gets a really spectacular view of Blaine's ass, so he isn't complaining; even if mustard yellow pants should have been outlawed years ago. Or never invented in the first place.

"Well…" Blaine's slowing down as they enter into the arrivals hall.

Sebastian has a car waiting for him; hopefully with a steaming cup of coffee (or twelve) inside and a mountain of papers he needs to at least skim through and normally he'd be rushing through the doors but today he's oddly reluctant.

"Good luck with your finals, Blaine Anderson. I'll keep an eye out for you when you get famous." He made sure to emphasis the wink so he could see that blush one last time.

"I don't know about famous," he stuttered. "But I appreciate your vote of confidence."

"Nope. It has to happen. Because I'm going to spend the next week telling everyone I know that I met you and that you're the next big thing. And it would be really embarrassing if I were wrong about that."

"I would hate to be the source of your humiliation."

"Don't be then." And with a final wink Sebastian is headed towards the exit and absolutely not looking back.

Well, maybe once.


	2. Please Remain Seated

**Author's Note: Deepest apologies for this taking so long. Originally it was going to be totally different but I couldn't make it work the way I wanted, despite months of stubborn perseverance. Finally I convinced myself to scrap it and I think only about 2 paragraphs ended up being transferred.  
There's one more part after this. And god only knows when that will be up. But thank you all for bearing with me. **

* * *

In the last four years, Blaine Anderson had spent more time in suits than he ever imagined he would. Awards shows, dinners, photoshoots. You name it, is stylist had him in a suit. He was thankful for his Dalton education, because it meant always wearing a jacket and tie was basically second nature to him.

The suit he was in that night was, like many of his, from Hummel Designs. Early in both of their careers they struck up a mutually beneficial deal; Blaine would wear something of Hummel design to 25% of his appearances in exchange for publicity. (Much to both parties surprise, they ended up getting a little something more from the arrangement in the form of a kind-of relationship.)

Although this was not an official function, not for Blaine at least. He wasn't even on the guest list and instead had come as film star Rachel Berry's plus one. It was a last minute decision on his part. He was supposed to doing a show in Atlanta, but a basement fire caused the venue to cancel the show, giving him an unexpected two day break.

So he had hopped on the first available plane to get back to New York. Kurt was celebrating his 28th birthday that night and there was no way he would miss it now that he didn't have another obligation.

Rachel's date had been more than willing to give up his ticket. He and Rachel had been together on and off since high school and in the entertainment world he was a nobody. Needless to say, being dragged along to function after function wasn't his favorite activity.

Often Blaine looked at the two of them and wished that his own relationship was that simple. His, however, fluctuated between being really serious and the specific type of casual that could only be borne from a couple desperate to keep their relationship under wraps with the added stress of one half of the pair almost constantly being on the road and the other half frequently jetting off to France and Italy at a moment's notice.

Kurt called their relationship a personal and private matter that was nobody's business but their own. Blaine called it a secret. And by secret he really meant secret. He could count on one hand the number of people who knew about it. And while he respected Kurt's reluctance to tell anyone else, after months of nothing but Skype calls he couldn't help but be frustrated by it.

Even that night they would barely talk to each other. A couple of polite words exchanged as they passed each other, more if Rachel was with him because she was friends with both of them. And the rest of the night pretending that they barely knew each other outside of the handful of times they worked together. (Of course that would all change after. Once everyone had gone and Blaine had snuck into Kurt's apartment and they could be _them_ again.)

When it came to Blaine's sexuality the media didn't really know what to think. Early on in his career he had come out to some indie magazine, despite the protestation of his manager. Since then his sex/love life wasn't something he liked to discuss. First because there hadn't been anything to say and more recently at Kurt's behest.

The tabloids responded by pairing him off with pretty much every single person (male or female) that he came in contact with. If he smiled too wide at a store clerk it clearly meant they were secretly in love. The funniest rumor had been a two page spread about his illicit rendezvous with Taylor Lautner. His brother, Cooper, had that framed and had it hanging in his downstairs bathroom.

Most commonly people seemed convinced that he and Rachel were actually a couple. Although they didn't ever actively do anything to confirm these rumors, they never went out of their way to deny them either.

If questioned specifically, Blaine always spoke of his ideal person in masculine terms and replied that Rachel Berry was a very close friend whom he loved dearly. For her part Rachel adamantly assured the press hounds that her relationship was still going strong and that Blaine Anderson was the only person in her life who would join in when she started singing at 7 in the morning instead of trying to kill her.

It was a comfortable relationship and as long as the paparazzi were so frantic to fabricate their romance, they wouldn't think twice about the few times he and Kurt had been spotted together. Him showing upon her arm, unannounced, had sparked such a frenzy that he and Kurt could probably go skipping up the hall holding hands and no one would notice.

"I really should have just come in the back," he groaned once they finally made it through the media gauntlet.

"You did create quite the stir, Mr. Anderson."

Affixing his most affable smile to his lips, he turned to see who had addressed him.

Quinn Fabray was not someone that anyone eagerly admitted to knowing, but should you find yourself in the midst of a scandal that required legal counsel, she was rapidly establishing herself as the person to know. New York was divided in their opinion of her, either actively courting her favor or openly despising her. If the devilish smirk she tended to wear was anything to go by it was a position she was more than happy to be in.

He shrugged easily as he tried to gauge whether she was digging for something or just being friendly. "It's nice to come home, even if it's only for a day or two."

"I'm gone for a week and I miss it," she agreed with the daintiest laugh he had ever heard. "I don't know how you do it."

His smile stretched into a more genuine grin. It was a sentiment he could easily relate to. As much as he loved seeing the world, no where could ever compare to New York. It was becoming harder to leave it time and time again.

"Oh!" He exclaimed, reaching behind him and tugging Rachel forward. "Do you know Rachel?"

"I believe we've seen each other around," Rachel replied, begrudgingly offering out her hand. Blaine made a mental note to find out what that was all about later.

"And who here hasn't heard of Rachel Berry?" Whereas Rachel's greeting was forced and cold, Quinn's was infused with false warmth and sweetness.

"So," Blaine eagerly clapped his hands together and sought to bring the conversation back to a safer, more neutral ground, "have you heard about Hummel Designs' new line?"

They spent the next several minutes engaged in small talk until Rachel grimaced out a smile and said, "We really should try and find Kurt, don't you think? It's such a shame we haven't seen him yet and he _is_ the man of the hour."

"When I saw him he was over by the bar. And his outfit is absolutely stunning. Really some of his best work, I would say." She shot a last smug smile at Rachel before pressing a kiss to Blaine's cheek and saying, "Maybe I'll see you around. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go find my date. He's probably drowned himself in champagne by now."

"What was that about?" Blaine asked as Rachel practically dragged him to the opposite side of the room.

"Like you don't want to see Kurt more than I do," was the only reply she was willing to offer.

Obviously, Blaine did want to see him but not at the expense of being rude to a perfectly nice woman. And by this point in the evening it would be almost impossible to locate the guest of honor, much less be able to talk to him. Why Kurt opted to throw such lavish parties was always something of a mystery to Blaine, because he tended to disappear for the majority of them; typically to some secluded back room where he got in as much sketching as he could before his absence was noticed.

True to form, after two hours they still hadn't found him although everyone seemed to have just seen him in some remote corner somewhere. At Rachel's insistence he had secured them a table while she went and got them drinks; her drinks taste was much more specific than his and he could never quite remember everything she asked for.

"Hello, stranger," Quinn teased, sinking into the empty chair next to Blaine. She a lot more tipsy than she had been when they last talked. "Enjoying the party?"

"Very much. And did you find your date?"

"Several times over. Apparently there's a game on tonight." She rolled her eyes and Blaine pretended to nod in sympathy, although he was very well aware that there was a game tonight and had been dying to check his phone for scores for the last hour. "Speak of the devil…" Despite her words, Quinn's face lit up as she made eye contact with someone behind Blaine.

A minute later Blaine's shoulders tensed at the sensation of someone standing over him. Quickly he turned around to greet the newcomer, immediately freezing because there was something very familiar about him.

"Bas, this is Blaine Anderson. Blaine, Sebastian Smythe."

"Pleasure," Sebastian held out his hand with a warm smile.

Blaine's heart thudded in his chest. Sebastian didn't look exactly as Blaine remembered him, but close enough that it had to be the same person. A person that Blaine more than once dreamed of and wrote the occasional song about. That random stranger from over five years ago now who somehow always lurked at the back of his mind, just a foolish fantasy when he was tired of being alone. That one day he'd walk onto another plane and that green eyed man would just be sitting there, smirking and, most importantly, waiting for him.

Reality was a little different. For one thing, Sebastian didn't seem to remember Blaine at all.

"It's very nice to meet you. What do you do for a living? I haven't seen you at an event like this before," asked Blaine politely, hoping the disappointment he was feeling wasn't seeping through.

"I'm an attorney," he smoothly replied, smile growing more smug. "And you're in entertainment?"

"A musician," Blaine smiled tightly. He wasn't used to people having no idea who he was, even if they didn't personally listen to his music his face was plastered on enough billboards and his name cropped up in the media enough that people generally had a vague idea.

"He's just being an ass," Quinn chastised, glaring up at Sebastian. "He's dragged me to at least three of your concerts."

"Really?" Blaine hardly dared to glance over at the other man because he already had enough butterflies in his stomach from this sudden turn of events.

Quinn nodded eagerly, clearly pleased at the chance to put Sebastian in his place. "He bribed about half the office to change a meeting so he could go to your first show. And he bought tickets to the one at The Garden within ten minutes of their going on sale."

"I promised you a fantastic evening out." Sebastian bowed his head magnanimously. "And Smythe's are men of their words." Subtly, he winked at Blaine, not that he would have been able to miss the double meaning behind his words.

"No they aren't. I don't think your father has ever said an honest thing to me." Quinn didn't seem to insulted by Mr. Smythe's dishonesty, if anything she seemed to think that it was just some weird quirk of his.

"At the winter gala he said you looked beautiful. That certainly wasn't a lie."Sebastian smiled charmingly at her and Blaine's stomach definitely didn't twist with envy. Twinged, maybe. But just because he didn't have anyone to look at him like that.

Quinn smiled back with equal affection, eyelashes aflutter, as she sweetly replied, "He wanted to sleep with me."

"You can hardly blame him. You did look stunning that night."

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Blaine wracked his brain for some reason to excuse himself; any feeling of delight at seeing Sebastian again disappearing with every comment that passed between the other man and his girlfriend. (Not fiancée. Not that Blaine had pointedly looked at her left hand for confirmation.)

"I'm sorry," Quinn turned her attention back to him. "We're being incredibly rude. If you don't mind, I see a _friend_ over there," she waved ambiguously at an area that encompassed half the room. "Behave yourself," she commanded Sebastian before sweeping away.

"I hope someone has the sense to keep her away from the vodka. I won't even tell you what happened at the office Christmas party. But it almost got us both fired." Without asking, Sebastian slid into the empty unoccupied seat next to Blaine and focused his full attention on him.

A minute ago, Blaine had wanted that attention. But now that he had it, he wasn't sure what to do with it. "She seems nice," he said, licking at his lips.

"'Lovely', seems to be the favored word. Until you piss her off. Not even the witness protection program would keep you safe."

"I'll be sure to stay on her good side." He picked up his mostly empty glass and swirled the ice around in it. His alcohol tolerance had never been that impressive and he had already had more to drink than he normally did.. "So you two met in law school?"Finding out their history was really the last thing he wanted to do, but Sebastian certainly seemed eager to talk about her.

"Mmm?" He asked in the middle of a long sip of whatever amber liquid he was nursing. "No. We met when she interned at the firm. She hated it," he laughed fondly at a memory Blaine couldn't share. "Everyone was surprised she lasted all nine months. I think she's the only intern my father has ever written a recommendation for an not used the word incompetent."

"And… how long have you been together?" The minute it was out of his mouth he regretted asking it. Especially when Sebastian choked on his drink.

"We're not together," he said through his laughter. "She really isn't my type." He winked.

Blaine could feel himself turning scarlet. Somewhere it was decided that the nice, social part of the evening had concluded and the music took on a distinctly more pop-y feel as it was turned up.

"Enough about me." Sebastian leaned forward and was staring at Blaine like he was the single most interesting person in the world. "Your life is much more exciting than mine."

There were, of course hundreds of stock stories at the ready. Ones he had told over and over again in interviews, never ceasing to be surprised that people still wanted to hear them. He couldn't imagine there was anyone alive who had at least a passing interest in him who didn't know about the time the tour bus broke down, or when he fractured his foot right before going on and ignored it for the whole night. But none of them seemed funny enough or interesting enough for the older man.

"Not much to tell. Apparently you've been following my career," he shrugged.

"Quinn has a penchant for exaggeration. That meeting had already been rescheduled and I didn't even know about the Garden concert until the day after the tickets went on sale."

"But you were there?" He had meant for it to be a teasing statement, but somehow it came out unsteady and unsure.

Sebastian took another sip of his drink and stared critically at the decreasing level before saying, "You put on quite a show." He drained the last of it before pushing the empty across the table. In one smooth motion he was getting to his feet and offering his hand out to Blaine.

"Where are we going?" Blaine asked, eyebrows arched. Trying not to focus too hard on the way that Sebastian's fingers curled around his, he stumbled along after him towards the make-shift dance floor. Although he didn't protest he did navigate them towards a shadowy corner. So Sebastian (or anyone watching) wouldn't get the wrong idea, he made sure to keep a more than respectable distance between then.

Dancing was, actually, one of his favorite things. It was never something he had considered doing professionally, for one thing he didn't have that talent. But in college he had been exceptionally popular with the girls in his dorm because he would spend the entire night dancing with them.

It only took half a song for Sebastian to catch on and after he stopped trying to encroach on his space he proved to be a very good dance partner- he clearly had some sort of background in it. They spent several songs spinning in tandem around each other, making up silly little routines for them.

"So kind of our host to grace us with his presence."

Blaine almost gave himself whiplash as he turned to look for him. Sure enough, Kurt was standing on the other side of the room surrounded by at least thirty people all clamoring to talk to him, one of whom was Rachel. He watched as she leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Kurt's mouth dropped open in surprise and he looked around the room until his eyes locked with Blaine's.

The moment lasted for less than a second.

To make everything even better for him, the room was soon filled with a very familiar beat. He cringed as he recognized the song- a brain child of his manager in his early days when they were desperately trying to expand his fan base. It was a collaboration between him and then pop icon KiKi who had since faded into the obscurity of her drug habit.

"Not this song," he groaned, his head dropping down in embarrassment.

"Not your greatest."

"Hey!" It was the truth, but it still stung a little to hear Sebastian say it.

"I do really like that one song of yours. Oh what's its called?" Sebastian said by way of apology, biting his lip in teasing contemplation as his body swayed in a hypnotic rhythm.

"Second Chance Meeting?" Blaine rolled his eyes. It was a song off his second album and was the one that rather embarrassingly documented exactly how much time Blaine spent thinking about him after their meeting.

Sebastian was suddenly much closer than he was before and too close for Blaine to be able to see, but he could have sworn that he heard a satisfied smirk in his voice. "I was going to say 20 Minutes Til Dawn. Whatever would make you thing I'd like that one?"

"I-it's just very popular. You know, in general." It wasn't really, not compared to some of his other songs. It certainly wasn't a constant on set-lists but he'd play it every once in a while when the mood struck him.

Had he known that he was ever going to see Sebastian again, he probably would have refrained from spending half a verse waxing lyrical about his eyes. Not only because it was, frankly, a bit embarrassing but also because, the more he stared into them, the more obvious it was that he hadn't done them justice. At all. He might as well have said that the Hope Diamond was kind of shiny.

Really, he just should have left the description out all together, because there weren't words to describe them, he decided. The way the gleam of amusement twisted itself through something sharp and dark. The reflection of a deep understand of every secret the world had ever tried to keep. All in a swirling sea of indescribable greens and greys and golds and—

"I need some water." Blaine jerked himself away and made for the bar without looking back not caring if his dance partner was following. In fact, he would have preferred if he wasn't. Not that he didn't like the other man because he did. A lot. And therein, of course, lay the problem.

It was one thing to be in a relationship and still, occasionally, fantasize about a random stranger he had met years ago. It was another thing altogether to spend the evening dancing with him ad thinking about what it might be like to kiss him at his boyfriend's birthday party.

Even if Kurt hadn't barely even looked at him all night.

"You could've told me you were seeing someone."

Starting at the proximity of the voice, Blaine managed to slop half his glass of water down his front. Curing under his breath he turned to face Sebastian. "What?" He asked casually, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Who is he?" Shuffling closer, Sebastian peered around the room, undoubtedly seeking out a face suddenly clouded by jealousy.

"What?" He repeated, this time stupidly as he squirmed further away. Nervously looking around the crowded room until he spotted Kurt again who was now deeply engaged in a conversation with two rather busty blondes.

Apparently Sebastian had followed his faze because a moment later he was letting out a surprised chuckle. "Hummel?" He drawled. "Really?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," snapped Blaine. He wasn't sure if the majority of the anger coursing through him was directed at Sebastian or himself. For three years he had kept that a secret and in the space of two seconds it had come spilling out to a man he had no reason to trust.

"Apologies," Sebastian said not sounding even remotely sorry. "So if you aren't seeing anyone does that mean it's okay for me to do this?"

Everyone within a twenty foot radius turned to look at them as Blaine let out a yelp when Sebastian's hand slipped into his back pocket.

"No. No. No, it's really not." Frantically he shook his head and backed up so he was flush against the bar.

"What about this then?" Sebastian asked, taking advantage of Blaine's relocation to cage him in and slid a leg between the shorter man's thighs.

Breathlessly, Blaine replied, "You definitely can't do that."

"No?" He rolled his hips suggestively.

"You really, really can't." In his semi-intoxicated state it was becoming extremely difficult to not press back into Sebastian's inviting warmth.

"Oh," Sebastian pulled away, chuckling as Blaine let out an involuntary whimper. "Well then," he purred, "give me a call when I can." Without so much as a glance backwards he sauntered off into the crowd.

Suddenly, Blaine felt very much alone.

After ten minutes of searching he found Rachel who was schmoozing up to a director in a way she probably wouldn't be if her boyfriend had been there. After another couple of minutes he heard her excuse herself before she made her way over to him.

"I think I'm going to call it a night," he told her, suddenly feeling too tired to spend the next several hours standing around making small talk. He had played a late show the night before and was up early for a series of interviews to hint at the release of a new album within the foreseeable future as well promoting his upcoming international tour.

"Alone?" asked Rachel, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Unless you'd like to join me?" Came his cautious reply. "I was going to sneak over to Kurt's and crash there." He dropped his voice in case anyone was listening to them.

"No! I'm fine here." She looked guilty and apologetic. "I saw you with that guy… You looked very cozy."

If they looked anywhere near as cozy as Rachel's tone was implying, he was surprised she hadn't taken it upon herself to break them apart before. She always had been desperately dramatic and over protective of Kurt "He's an old friend. We met in college," he half lied. "He came as Quinn Fabray's plus one. This isn't really his scene."

Rachel made a strangled noise of disgust, "You're friends with someone dating _her_?"

"They're not dating?" As though that might make it better.

"And there's nothing between the two of you?"

"That's the first time I've talked to him in years!" he said defensively.

"Okay. Okay," Rachel held up her hands. "You just seemed-"

"Tell Kurt he can wake me up when he gets home," interrupted Blaine.

She obviously wasn't done with the conversation, but even she could tell it was a lost cause to continue it at the moment. "Fine," she huffed. Tilting her head up, she pressed a kiss to Blaine's cheek. "Call me when you're in town next?"

"Sure," he smiled tightly and hugged her. "We'll get dinner. I still haven't been to that new Italian restaurant on 3rd."

"It's a date."

Kurt was across the room and Blaine chanced a small smile and a wave in his direction as he weaved through the crowd, his heart lightening when he got a nod of recognition in return.

As it turned out he wasn't the only person who had decided to call it a night because there was a bit of a line to get his coat from the coat check. When he got to the front of the line he pulled the reclaim stub from his back pocket and handed it over to the attendant.

"Sorry, sir, but this isn't your ticket," he was politely informed.

"Oh. I'm so sorry!" Frantically, he searched through his pockets until he found the stub and passed it over, making sure to take out extra money for a tip. While the attendant was looking for his coat he examined the not-a-ticket he had tried to use.

It was a business card.

"Here you go." The attendant was back. Not wanting to seem rude, he shoved the card back into his pocket and took the coat. "Have a good night, sir."

"And you." He slipped his coat on and hurried outside, bracing himself against the chilly night air and the wall of paparazzi. He smiled and waved as he waited for a car. When one finally came around, he directed it to a street a few blocks from Kurt's apartment before sinking back into his seat and, once again, taking out the card.

He held it up so it could catch the flickering lights of the city as they drove. **Sebastian Smythe, Attorney at Law**, it read. Smiling, he ran his fingers over the embossed lettering before adding the number to his phone.


	3. Thank You For Flying

No one had ever accused Sebastian Smythe of being a romantic. At the age of eleven he had his first and only crush. The entire situation, he had decided was awkward and more than a little mortifying and he pointedly refused to ever put himself through _that_ again. Since then he had a grand total of three boyfriends. (Three and a half, if you counted James. They had gone on things that looked and felt a little like dates and had been, more or less, exclusive without ever really talking about what it all meant. And the night before James graduated they stayed up having marathon sex and the last Sebastian had heard from him was a hurried 'see you' as he sprinted out the room in his graduation gown.)

He never made it to the six month mark with any of them.

He loved a nice dinner at a obscenely overpriced five star restaurant as much as the next person but he didn't see why it had to mean more than any other Saturday night dinner. And the hand holding and moon-eyed stares only made him unable to enjoy his exquisitely cooked and elaborately prepared meal.

Long ago he decided his life as a bachelor would continue forever. Success, after all, was far more important than love. As long as he had sex at least three times a month (preferably more but he had to be realistic about these things. Not even a mind-blowing orgasm was worth going out after a 70+ hour work week to pick up a random stranger at some club), he was content.

Or he had been. Until he re-met one Blaine Anderson.

He certainly hadn't forgotten the other man after their first encounter, even before his music career took off and plastered his face on every third billboard in the city. But he had just been a vague memory floating somewhere in the back of his mind, fondly trotted out on the rare, lazy Sunday morning with a soft smile and a quiet chuckle.

And, as Blaine's star rose, Quinn helpful pointed out that it was creepy at their age to be fantasizing about random celebrities. Not that Blaine was really random. Nor did Sebastian's interest in him have anything to do with his fame. But there were some things in his life that not even Quinn was privy too and their, albeit brief, history had been one of them.

(That had changed after the party and he and Blaine began occasionally talking and Quinn's teasing had become unbearable. Why he had mistakenly thought telling her would mean she'd just drop it, he wasn't sure. Instead, it lead to her declaration that they were like fairytale princes and she began begging to be his fairy godmother. Most days he thought it was at least a small step up from being labelled a celebrity stalker, especially after he confiscated the wand.)

He had managed to do a fairly good job of keeping her at bay. First with the excuse of Kurt who, apparently, was a valued enough client of hers that she was willing to leave well enough alone and then with a rather convenient caseload that left him so buried in work he wore the same tie three days in a row before he noticed. Blaine was also extraordinarily busy- always on tour or off promoting something. Neither of them had time for her meddling and he threatened to arrange for the world to find out about that-thing-that-didn't-happen with that-client-she-never-had if she didn't stop.

But then a very single Blaine had announced what the media had since labelled his 'retirement tour'. Sebastian had spent a solid half hour teasing him about it, since he always liked to point out how much older Sebastian was than him before Blaine confided that actually he was taking a leave from the music scene to try his hand at the stage, which had always been a dream of his. And, he added a bit wistfully, he'd finally be able to live in his multi-million dollar apartment for longer than two weeks at a time. Which was something that Sebastian could sympathize with, his own apartment costing a considerable amount and most days he could barely remember what color the bathroom tiles were, he spent so little time in it.

The moment she had heard, Quinn started scheming. Cheerfully, she reminded Sebastian there were a fair few things he would rather dear old Dad not find out, never mind his grandfather. Even if most of those stories involved both of them it was no secret that the entire Smythe family, if not the world, liked her best. Begrudgingly he left her to it, claiming he had other things to be worrying about and resolutely deciding to ignore all of her incoming phone calls and e-mails.

"July 18th," she said as she flounced, unannounced, into his office after two very successful wakes of evading her.

"Is over eight months from now." Tiredly he flipped to the next page of the brief he was reviewing. "What about it?"

She threw a manila envelope down onto his desk. "We are going to London."

"No we aren't."

"Your calendar is already blocked out. We'll be gone for five days. Plane tickets and hotel reservations are in there. I think it's for the best that I hold on to the concert tickets, however. For now, at least." She pointed at the envelope he had already brushed aside.

"They'll be able to spare you for a week," she pressed on as he opened his mouth to protest. "Your father seems very keen on you settling down and finding a husband so he's agreed that you are to be banned from the premise then as well."

"Blaine and I talk less than once a week and have gone out for coffee a grand total of four times in the last two years. It's a little premature to start picking out your grooms-maid's dress."

"And yet you didn't even have to stop and think who it was I was talking about. Funny that." She grinned sweetly before adding, "And my dress has been picked out since the day I became your woman of honor."

"And when was that?"

"November 2nd, 2014."

He smiled fondly at the memory. "Fine." He was basically getting a free vacation out of all of this and that would never be something he said no to. And frankly, he could do with some time off; he was regularly dreaming about the office now.

"And you will go along with whatever plan I come up with that will sweep Blaine off his tiny hobbit feet?"

"Hobbits don't have small feet and neither does Blaine," he said with a wink. "And I will go along with your silly, harebrained scheme." He smirked. "Unless I come up with a better one."

"As if you could."

If one thing could be said of Sebastian Smythe, it was that he never shrank from a challenge and that was a challenge if he ever heard one.

xxx

The concert had sold out within a day of the tickets going on sale. Officially, it was the last show of the tour, although Blaine would be performing one last time once he returned to New York. That, however, was being considered a private function with only about 400 tickets available to his friends and most dedicated fans.

People had come not only from all over Europe, but all over the world. Warblers and Warblerettes (as his fans called themselves; the name taken from the bird that had adorned the cover of his first album) had started lining up outside the O2 nearly 24 hours before the doors had opened because Blaine was known for popping out to visit.

(True to form he had appeared just after midnight, armed with pizzas and pillows to distribute to the rather hysterical mass. He had taken pictures and signed anything shoved at him for 30 minutes before he had been hustled away into a waiting car to be taken back to his hotel, leaving a sea of crying fans in his wake.)

The concert itself could only be described as emotionally charged, more so than any of the others on the tour had been. Halfway through the first song a collective realization ripped through both the band and the crowd that this, really, was it. After that everyone had trouble holding it together.

For two of the songs they had a picture slideshow being projected. No one missed the crack in Blaine's voice at the overwhelming 'awww' that arose when a photo from their first ever concert came up; all of them so young and unsure looking. Sam was so nervous it looked like he had never held a guitar in his life and their arms were stiffly looped around each other, obviously at the suggestion of whoever had taken the picture and not of their own initiative. It was a hilariously sharp contrast to how they were now; constantly invading each other's space.

They ended with a compilation of the top 10 greatest hits and by the end of it there was not a dry eye in the house and Blaine was openly crying onto Sam's shoulder as they walked, arm in arm, off stage.

"Hey," Blaine said, reappearing a few minutes later to screams for more. His hair was more mussed that usual and his eyes were red-rimmed, but he was back to wearing his trademark smile. "From the bottom of our hearts we want to thank every single one of you. Not just for coming out tonight, but for the years of support you have given us.

"So today, we have something a little special planned for you," he continued as the band filed back on stage and a piano was rolled out for him. "There's this guy back at home. We've known each other for years and since the day we met there's been this... something between us." He sat down at the piano and played out a few notes. "But the timing has never been right for us. Except now, I think, it finally might be. And let me tell you, he really is something."

The arena erupted in shrill screams and Blaine patiently waited for it to quiet before he continued. "I know you're all anxious to rush home and upload the entire show onto the internet, and he's probably too busy to go looking, but just in case, it would mean a lot if you could wait a few days to put this out there. So he can hear it from me first.

"So, in thanks for putting me at the top of your charts more than anyone else, and because Nick insisted we do a practice run of this at least once before Monday," the crowd laughed fondly, "here's a little song I wrote for him, and for all of you, about new beginnings and taking chances."

xxx

"Up!" The hammering on his door echoed through the room and he groaned. Distinctly, he recalled setting three alarms just so this precise thing could be avoided. He would spend the rest of his life being endlessly grateful to Santana but it was rare that a morning that started with her waking him up would end well.

"Unnn," he groaned, rolling over to check the clock. 8.27, almost an hour before he had to be awake. "Can it wait until later?" He called back.

"I'm not kidding, twinkletoes. Up. Now."

He buried his head under the pillows. With all three of them and the bedding it very nearly blocked her out.

"Don't think I won't go all kinds of Mexican crazy on your ass." The covers were torn back and thrown off to one side and Santana's scowling face stared menacingly down at him.

"We still have almost two hours. Go harass someone else."

"Plans change, hot shot. You are now flying out of a different airport which means you needed to be up 10 minutes ago."

"What? Why?"

"You do not pay me for you to think for yourself. If I say you're taking a bus to Moscow the walking to Beijing and flying from there you meekly nod your head and get your cute little ass on that bus. Comprende?"

Meekly, Blaine nodded.

"Good. I'm glad we've reached that understanding. Now get moving. I expect to see your bright shining face down in the hotel lobby at 9." Forcibly she smacked his ass which caused him to start upright to protect himself from further abuse. Delivering a final, unflinching glare she turned and left the room.

He stumbled through his morning routine still not even close to awake. The cup of coffee he hastily gulped helped and by the second one he was beginning to feel more or less human. If he had known about this change of plans, he definitely would have said no to the last two rounds of drink he had been coerced into having.

At 9.15 he headed down to the lobby. Their departures were always something of a production as everyone rushed to check out and load up either the bus or whatever assortment of buses, cars, or vans they were taking to wherever their next destination was. Although Santana managed to keep them relatively well organized. He remembered one band they had opened for in their earlier days who had actually left their drummer behind and didn't realize it until they had gotten to the next town over.

But this morning there was only Santana, terrifying heels tapping out an annoyed pattern on the floor and arms crossed in front of the plunging neckline of her dress.

"Where's everyone else?" That number of people weren't easy to miss or hide, even in his barely functioning state.

"Still asleep in their beds," she snapped. "Where do you think? They left. On time."

"I needed another cup of coffee."

"And now you get to share a car with me. And if we're late, I might just arrange it so you get to spend the entire flight next to me." She flicked an imaginary speck of dust off her skirt, causing the numerous bracelets encircling her left arm to jangle cheerful. "It's so weird how they do that. Every single time I move. Annoying, don't you think?" Abruptly she turned on her heel, making sure the ends of her hair whipped around just in front of his face.

Caffeine addiction might be a bitch but it had nothing on Santana Lopez.

He waited until she was just out of earshot to grumble out an irritable, "Remind me to fire you when you get back from your vacation."

If he was honest with himself and allowed himself to think about it he had no idea how he was going to make it through the next 2 months without her while she toured various exotic beaches with her girlfriend in pursuit of the world's greatest piña colada. She had spent the last five years organizing nearly every single detail of his life, even the ones her job description didn't strictly dictate she had any hand in. He barely knew what day of the week it was without her telling him anymore.

Not that he would ever tell her he was having such sentimental thoughts.

The car ride wasn't even that bad once Santana finally decided she had gotten her point across and thus staring daggers at him every two seconds. Eventually her phone rang and the combination of the murmur of the engine and her rapid chattering lulled him into a doze.

When he next opened his eyes they were coming to a stop in front of what looked a lot more like a solitary old hangar than an actual airport.

"What the hell?" He mouthed to her because not even his present alarm warranted interrupting her in the middle of a phone call.

Instead of replying she merely gestured for him to get out and held up a finger to indicate she would be another minute.

He grabbed his carry-on bag and stepped outside, cautiously exploring his surroundings. He was pretty confident that Santana hadn't finally gotten so fed up with him that he was about to be handed over to the Mexican mob. Probably. Although this would be the ideal time to do it, no one would really question his disappearing for at least a month which was when West Side Story rehearsals were scheduled to start.

He turned around just in time to see the car, Santana still inside, take off. Quickly, he ran through the very short list of Spanish he knew in an attempt to determine if any of could possibly help save his life.

Unless they could be swayed by butter, tacos, or cussing he was probably going to be out of luck.

Eventually the sound of an incoming plane reached his ears and he temporarily debated whether it would be best to hide. The space was mostly open and if he really was about to be on the receiving end of the mob's wrath, movies told him it really would be best to comply with them.

Of course, the fact that this was just a harmless prank seemed just as likely, if a bit less cynical. It was elaborate, certainly. But the tour was over. Touring, for the foreseeable future was over. And weirder things had happened.

A couple of (very non-threatening looking) men came off the plane and proceeded to go about refueling and bringing some random boxes on board.

Awkwardly he stayed off to the side as they chattered away to each other in a language he didn't understand.

"Mr. Anderson?" One of the men who had mostly been overseeing the other two as they worked finally came over to him. "Your plane awaits."

"I'm sorry? My plane? I think there must have been some mistake."

"No mistake, sir. Assuming you are Mr. Blaine Anderson."

"I am. But I didn't... Where is everyone else? Nick? Jeff? Sam?" Even when he didn't travel with the whole motley crew his band was always with him.

"I wouldn't know. But I'm sure they are managing fine."

"Blaine Anderson would you get on board already? Some of us have jobs to get back to." A brunette woman in a flight attendant uniform had stuck her head out of the plane and was yelling down at him. Although it had been years he was pretty sure he recognized her.

"Janice?" He asked, thoroughly confused.

"Good to know you haven't forgotten all of us little people." She laughed. "Now come on. You're keeping us waiting."

No less perplexed than he had been before but at least feeling markedly more sure about his well being he started up the steps. At the top he stopped to give Janice a one armed hug which she happily returned.

"I still don't understand what's happening. Or why you're here."

She grinned that same sly grin she used to use as she slipped him an extra blanket and beckoned him inside.

Of all the private jets he had been on in the last decade this one was definitely the nicest. The wood paneling was simple but screamed expensive and instead of a couple rows of seats there were only leather seats with just enough room for a small table to be pulled out between the two. Along the back wall was a small liquor cabinet with probably thousands of dollars of alcohol in it.

Catching sight of exactly who was occupying one of the chairs, he stopped in his tracks, causing Janice to bump into him.

"I'll just be up front," she giggled. "Let me know if you need anything."

Blaine stayed frozen in the middle of the aisle.

"You should probably have a seat. I think Peter is eager to take off."

As if to accentuate his point the speakers crackled to life with a variation on the standard preflight announcements. Numbly Blaine stumbled his way to his seat and secured his seat belt in place.

"What are you doing here?" He finally asked because all Sebastian was offering him was an amused grin.

"Same thing you are, I imagine. Flying back to New York. As Janice mentioned, not all of us are retired. Work beckons."

"And what is she doing here?"

"I thought you might appreciate another familiar face." He shrugged but the cocksure smile was starting to give way to a twisted grimace of concern.

"You came to England. To fly me home?"

"And to use up some of my vacation days. The tower likes to change its exhibits every few years, didn't want to be missing out on anything crucial. And London is known for their entertainment. I couldn't possibly miss out on that. I'd never been to the O2 before. It's much larger than I thought it would be," he said nonchalantly.

"You came to my show?" Blaine groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Well that ruins my surprise then. Although I'm not sure I could ever top this." He laughed and looked around the plane in awe.

"Bit presumptuous of you to just assume I'd be going tomorrow night. And announcing it to the world? Very forward."

"I-I, I mean I hoped you would. Santana said she saw Quinn's name of the guest list and that she was bringing a guest. But if you weren't planning on it I promise I won't be offended. You were there yesterday and you did this and... just because we're well. I mean you seem to... and I do too. But that doesn't mean you have to-"

"Breathing is a crucial component of survival," Sebastian cut him off, grin larger than ever. "And I wouldn't miss it for the world."

* * *

**Thank you everyone who has read and enjoyed this little story and, especially, everyone who has reviewed. You're all the greatest. **


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